Out of the ashes.
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Chapter three.
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Ten minutes after Fiona left, Sam checked the contents of the fridge and decided he needed to make a quick trip to the nearby grocery store. As he stepped outside on to the top step he froze in place. Across the street, next to the canal he could see the Charger, but no sign of Fiona. He almost dropped his phone getting it out of his pocket, pressing Fiona's number on the speed dial he spat out a curse as the call went straight to voice mail.
After turning back to lock the door, Sam ran down the steps and searched the immediate area. All the time re-dialling Fiona's number, finding nothing to give him a clue to what had happen. He brought up Michael's number without thinking, but just managed to stop himself pressing the send button.
Telling Michael something had happened to Fiona was something he was going to have to do face to face. And he wanted to at least have something more than, 'Fi's gone', to tell his friend when he saw him. Even as he jumped in his car and drove off, he was making phone calls, pulling in every favour he was owed.
…...
Michael checked the kitchen clock for the third time in ten minutes. It was already four thirty, she had been gone for two hours. That was two hours too long as far as he was concerned. So far he had repaired a wooden trellis supporting a tall bougainvillea which had of course also needed it's long thorny tendrils tying back in place. Then after getting all the loose leaves and thorns out of his skin, hair and clothes. He had moved on to trying to figure out why his mother's antique VCR refused to work. Eventually after much cursing under his breath he disconnected it completely and thrown it in the trash.
Madeline gasped as her treasured VCR was unceremoniously discarded. "Michael!" She shrieked, heading for the bin.
He had forgotten about the pleasures of helping his mother with her little household chores. "It's out dated Ma, just stick to using the DVD player." He informed her, inspecting a cut on his finger caused by catching it against the circuit board.
"But all my favourite programmes are on video. What am I meant to do with all the tapes I've got?" Madeline whined, rescuing her machine from the bin. "Can't you take it back to Fiona's and check it over again?" She placed it down carefully in front of him.
He was leaning forward over the kitchen counter, all his weight on his hands. "It's not going to make any difference.." He grimaced, the beginnings of a headache building. Tiny needles of tension just behind his eyes, causing him to squint.
"Please Michael." She wheedled, catching hold of his arm. "Can you just try? For me?"
He shut his eyes for a moment before standing up, a long suffering look on his face. "I'll tell you what. How about tomorrow I take you out and buy you a new one?"
"You really can't repair this one?" She asked.
"It's over twenty years old mom. It's had it." Pushing it away he looked at the clock again, and then doubled checked his wristwatch. "Where the hell is she?" he muttered. She had to be punishing him for something.
…..
Sasha had kidnapped Fiona on a whim. Michael Westen's little girlfriend had just looked like such an easy target out in the open, not paying the slightest bit of attention to her surroundings. Why Larry had not just killed these people years ago was beyond her understanding. But then again he could be such a big softy at times. She smiled at thought of how he was going to react to this development, licking her lips in anticipation.
Arriving back at the marina, she drove up to the security gates and through to her covered parking space. Staying inside the car she got out her phone and pressed the speed dial.
"I'm in the car park. Send some one to collect my bags." Sitting back in her seat she waited, her long manicured nails tapping impatiently on the dashboard. Finally she spotted one of the crew jogging towards her. Getting out of the car she opened the trunk, pointing to a large suitcase.
"Take that up to the yacht." She watched as the man struggled with the suitcase, getting it out without damaging the material on the lip of the trunk. Once he had it out safely she turned to walk along the jetty leaving him to follow behind.
As soon as she stepped on board her eyes narrowed, and her expression became hard. Marching up on to the upper deck. She stopped in front of Larry, her arms crossed over her chest. "What are you doing out here?" She snapped.
He was lying on a sun lounger, a copy of Guns and Ammo resting on his lap and a cigar clenched between his teeth. "I'm resting Sasha, getting a bit of sun." He explained as if talking to a child. "No need to start killing the crew." He added with a smirk, remembering the crews reaction to him getting out bed and demanding they assist him out on deck.
He carefully moved into a sitting position, sliding his sunglasses down off his head and over his eyes. "Look, no more wounds to be sewn up." He blew out a cloud of smoke before stubbing the cigar out in the nearby ashtray.
She continued to stare at him for a moment, checking his body over herself. "I have a present for you. But I'm not sure that you deserve it." She continued to scowl.
Larry peered round her to see one of the crew wheeling a large suitcase on board. He gave her a quizzical look. "What is it?" Sasha had a strange sense of humour, there was no telling what she might consider a present. It could be anything from a nuclear warhead, to an expensive designer aftershave.
"You can't open it here. Take it into the salon." She ordered the crewman. "And be careful, don't damage the case."
'So not the aftershave.' Larry thought.
"The Dawsons are dead, by the way. It was on the news. The police are investigating, they died in suspicious circumstances apparently." He drawled, as he picked up his crutches and struggled to his feet.
"I told you I knew how to do my job. Now come, open your present." She kept a close eye on him as they went inside.
The case had been placed on a mahogany table in the middle of the room, laid on its side ready to be opened. Sasha stood back as Larry cautiously unzipped and then flipped the lid open. He stared at the contents dumbfounded, his complexion going from pale, to flushed red with anger.
"What the hell were you thinking!" He sputtered, beyond furious he was barely able to get the words out. Dropping one of the crutches to the floor he produced a butterfly knife from his pocket, twirling the handle around making the blade flick out.
"You thought I'd be happy about this!" He raged pointing the knife at the suitcase contents. "I told you to watch them not.." Too angry to continue speaking, he jabbed the knife in her direction.
"I was bored." She explained. Unaffected by his temper she dropped down into one of the comfy chairs that was scattered around the room. "For two weeks all I do is watch them. Now if you don't want your present throw it over the side." She did however notice his cold calculating expression, and the way he was pointing the knife towards her. "And put that thing away, killing me will only add to your problems."
He stared at her in disbelieve. Slowly drawing himself up to his full height, he took a deep breath and fixed her with a murderous gaze. The knife he had been pointing in her direction dropped to his side, and began to rapidly tap against his leg. "Killing you would be too quick." He snarled.
She rose gracefully to her feet and glided to his side. Her hand closed around his wrist, halting the movement of the knife. Leaning in very close she spoke directly into his ear, her voice low and husky. "Are you flirting with me Larry?"
He took a half step away from her, pulling his wrist out of her grip. Clearing his throat, he got back to business. "Is she dead?" He asked, a flick of his wrist and the blade disappeared back inside the handle.
"I used a stun gun, and then gave her a dose of ketamine so we probably have a little while until she's conscious."
"You realize Michael is going to be out for blood because of this?" Larry lent over the case, staring at Fiona's curled up form. Trying to think of some way to turn the situation to his advantage.
Sasha moved to join him she loved to watch Larry's expression as his brain began to whirr, plotting how he could manipulate any situation to his advantage. "He doesn't know who has her. I bet he doesn't even know she's missing yet." She whispered in his ear. "Last time I saw him. He was gardening with his mommy." She added with a sneer.
"Oh but he'll suspect, and I can tell you from my last meeting with him. He's not quite as forgiving as he's been in the past."
"He'll forgive me." Sasha stated with confidence. "He always does."
"It was never forgiveness Sasha. He's no different to anybody else you manage to piss off. Nobody wants to deal with the fallout from the rest of your family." Sasha's father once a KGB general, now head of one of the largest criminal families in Russia.
"It doesn't matter what you call it. He won't kill me." She sat back, a confident smile on her face.
Larry returned the smile, he had an idea. "You're right, he would at least be cautious about attacking you."
A slow smile lit up her face. "So you're no longer angry with me?" She pouted.
"No I'm still angry, but I might have a way to make this work." He answered.
"Well then we'd best get her settled in before she wakes. Unless of course you want me to kill her?"
"No. She's caused me enough trouble over the years, I want her alive to witness this."
…...
It was five thirty and there was still no sign of Fiona. Madeline watched as Michael paced around the house. He had tried to ring her, but only got her voice mail. He had then tried Sam and the call had just rung with no answer.
"If they're on a job, they may not be able to answer their phones." Madeline told him, trying to help.
He sent her a look loaded with contempt. "Thank you mother." He ground the words out. "I hadn't thought of that." He finished one more circuit of the room before turning to her. "Give me your keys I'm going over to the loft."
"Fiona said you were to wait here, and she said not to give you the car keys under any circumstances."
He stared at her, a little shocked. "O-kay." He spoke slowly. "I'll just have to break the locks, your choice." He turned away, heading for the side door and out to the garage.
She gave in, knowing full well he was about to take her car regardless of her consent. Reluctantly she handed the keys over. He gave her a soft smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Thank you." He pressed a kiss on her forehead before heading out of the door.
He was half way to the loft when he realized he was unarmed. He thought about turning round and going to one of Fiona's storage units. He could break in and get what he wanted, she'd be furious of course and he would probably be at risk of a bruise or two for stealing her property. But then again they should answer their phones when he called and stop trying to keep him out of the loop.
He slowed to take the turning that would lead to her nearest weapons stash, but then decided no. He would be fine, he was going to the loft. If they weren't there and it became necessary, he could arm himself from Sam's supply.
He relaxed when he spotted the charger still parked up outside the nightclub. Leaving his mother's car parked nearby he jogged over to the rusted metal gates that led to the loft. Sam's car was gone, they had to still be out on the mystery job.
When he reached the top of the stairs, he dropped down and pulled out his wallet, taking out one of Fiona's hair grips which he kept for these occasions. It was a matter of a few seconds for him to break in. The place was deserted, the bed unmade, with an empty pizza box lying on top of the rumpled sheets. Across the room on the work bench were empty beer bottles and a plain folder.
Taking the last remaining beer from the fridge, Michael sat down on one of the bar stools and flicked the folder open. Wondering exactly what sort of job Sam was working on. By the end of the first page, Michael was finding it hard to stay sat down. How could Sam do this and not tell him about it?
…...
For Fiona the first few seconds of consciousness was filled with raw panic and confusion. Her eyes flew open but she was in complete darkness, trying to draw in a deep breath she was struck instantly by the sensation of being suffocated. Some sort of cloth had been jammed into her mouth and was being held in place by another piece tied around her head. The feeling sent her heart racing so fast she thought it might burst out of her chest. Overwhelmed by fear she fought desperately to free herself.
Just before her actions caused her to black out, her survival instincts finally kicked in. She stopped fighting, this wasn't the first time she had woken up gagged and bound, she needed to use her head. Gaining a small measure of control over her terror, she concentrated on breathing through her nose. Forcing herself to relax and take slow, deep measured breaths.
The hopelessness of the situation caused her body to shudder, as the shock of it all began set in. She was alone, neither Michael or Sam would know where she was being held. Oh God Michael! How was he going to cope with this? She had to get out of wherever she was, as quickly as possible. That thought gave her something to focus on. Michael needed her, this was no time for hysteria.
She began to take stock of her situation, the chair she was sat on had to be bolted to the floor because it hadn't budged during her struggles. Her limbs were tied down from wrist to elbow and ankle to knee, by what felt like duct tape. Unable to see or hear anything, she concentrated on her other senses. She could feel a very slight movement, a swaying sensation. A boat, she had to be on a boat. But the movement was barely noticeable, so it had to be docked. At least that's what she hoped.
She sniffed, she needed to be strong, if she was going to get out of this. She sniffed again catching the scent of a woman's perfume. She remembered then, a woman's face in front of her just before the pain that she recognized had come from a stun gun.
So from knowing nothing and being terrified she was now pretty sure she was on a boat, and had been taken by a woman. It was a start. All the time she had been sitting there she was attempting to loosen her bonds rubbing her arms back and forth as much as she could. She would get free, beat the living daylights out of the woman who had grabbed her and get back to Michael. She started to feel better, no longer scared and with a beginnings of a plan things were looking up.
…...
Sam had been dodging Michael's phone calls for an hour, he hadn't been able to find out anything that gave a positive lead to who had taken Fiona. His gut told him it had to be Larry, but he had no proof. Larry couldn't have recovered from his injuries this quick, and he wouldn't go up against Michael from such a position of weakness. It just wasn't Larry's style.
Maybe it was one of Fiona's enemies, or word had got out that Michael wasn't at his best and one of the many people who wanted his head was making a move. There was just so many possibilities. His phone signalled an incoming text message.
I'm at the loft. Where are you? And what the hell have you been up to?
Sam began cursing, Michael had obviously read the file he had left out and now he was going to have to drop the rest of the days bad news on him as well. With a sigh Sam sent a message back.
I'm on my way. Then he switched his phone off.